A Slender Chance, a Slender Man Mythos Story
by ErinnMellas
Summary: 16 year-old Jamie Warren is always bullied at school, and feels like no one understands her. She meets the mysterious Slender Man, and finds an odd companionship. But this unexpected friendship is a double-sided blade, when Jamie's enemies start to go missing... [ON HIATUS, HAS NOT BEEN CANCELLED! :)]
1. Prologue

"_Marvel what?" I asked my friend, furrowing my brow._

"_Marble Hornets!" she corrected me. "Just look up "entry #1" on YouTube, and then watch it. Trust me, it's awesome. Tell me when you finish them!"_

I was indifferent at the time. I've seen my share of creepy videos, so I thought nothing of watching another. So some guy reviewed a bunch of tapes that captured evidence of a supposed "Slender Man." Big deal! The videos could very well be false, with the technology we have nowadays.

I must admit, though, this Slender Man guy seemed pretty legit. I mean, he was creepy enough, and the way the cameras freaked out around him was cool. The videos made me jump and scream a few times, which I love. That's a sign of a good scary story!

That was then, though. Now, my life has changed. And by changed, I don't mean something little, like a new hair style, or breaking up with a boyfriend. I mean _changed_, as in _forever_.


	2. A Walk in the Park

"_I watched them all in almost one night!" I exclaimed to Katrina the next day. "They're so awesome! I'm going to finish watching the rest of them today."_

"_I told you!" Katrina replied with a smile. "Did they give you nightmares?"_

_I scoffed. "Are you serious? No way! I don't scare that easily!"_

_I didn't admit that the videos had kept me up until three in the morning, laying there in my bed, frozen in paranoia._

I adjust the straps of my backpack so it hangs more comfortably on my shoulders. Deciding not to take the bus home today, I walk across my high school's baseball diamonds to the park that was right next to them. It was a quaint little park, with trails winding about through a forest, turning into a big loop. I enjoy walking here, looking around at the trees, breathing in the smell of nature.

I usually don't ride the bus home from school, if I can avoid it. My mom makes me take it in the morning, but sometimes I go against her will and walk to school, anyway. It isn't that I have anything against busses. It's that I have everything against the people who ride the bus. Specifically, my bus.

Missy Carson, the most popular girl at my school, happens to ride my bus, along with part of her little posse of posers. Missy is tall, slender, and has perfect skin. Her dark hair hangs down to her waist and lacks a single wave. Her blue eyes shine bright, and her teeth are whiter than paper. Her chest… well, let's just say that she's well endowed for a junior in high school. Oh, and she has the singing voice of an angel.

I, on the other hand, am of average height. My blonde hair is impossible to straighten, and I suffer from constant breakouts of acne. My legs resemble that of a boys'; I find shaving extremely tedious and unnecessary, because I don't ever wear clothes that reveal my bare legs. I have the breasts of a twelve year-old, and forget about perfect teeth.

You could say that Missy and I are polar opposites.

Anyway, back to the bus thing. I make a point of sitting in the very front seat for a reason. Missy and her friends always sit in the very back, so verbal abuse from her on the bus is minimal due to our separation. However, that doesn't stop her from throwing various items such as pencils, crumpled paper, and the occasional pudding cup, at my head. This is a usual occurrence: Picking on the freak nerd.

So, I choose to commute to and from school by walking or riding my bike, whenever it is possible. I always walk through the park, because the trail ends right across the street from my neighborhood.

This was one of my safe places, away from the bullies on the bus, and the bullies at school.

I take my headphones out and wind the cord around my iPod, then pocket the device, so I can listen to the birds and other various sounds. There are only a few people on the trail today. Maybe I'll walk the loop a few times before heading home.

Unwrapping a piece of gum, I pop it into my mouth and chew, savoring the minty flavor. A branch cracks in the forest to my right. I look, but see nothing out of the ordinary. I shrug and keep walking, taking note of the dark clouds gathering overhead. It will probably start to rain soon. Perhaps walking the loop once will do, for today.

I'm about halfway done with the loop before I hear footsteps coming up from behind me. I assume it's one of the joggers that frequent the trail, so I move over to one side so they can pass. They don't pass me, but I still hear the footsteps. I look over my shoulder, and see no one. Odd. Maybe they just went off on one of the rough unpaved trails that go deeper into the forest.

I suddenly get a very strange feeling. It's the feeling of being watched. I glance around me in all directions. No one is in sight. I still have the feeling. A few drops of rain fall onto my face, and I see the dark splotches of water beginning to dot the pavement of the trail.

At a steady jog, I make my way toward the end of the trail. I conclude that my feeling of paranoia is due to a lack of sleep and the ominous darkness of the rainclouds. The rainfall increases, and within a very short amount of time, it's pouring. I flip my hood up to shield my head from the water, when I get that feeling again.

I suddenly begin coughing for no reason. I stumble to my knees, hacking as if I was choking on something. I struggle to catch my breath, when I see something out of the corner of my eye. Glancing over in that direction, I see a man standing about six feet away from me. My hood blocks my line of sight, so I only see him from the knees down.

He is clothed in what looks like a black business suit, and his pale hands appear to hang down past his knees. Long arms, I note in my mind. I'm still practically hacking up a lung on the ground, and I still don't know why. I see the feet of the man walking toward me with an odd slowness. I figure that he's walking over to me to ask if I'm okay, but he's taking his own sweet time. Closer, closer…

My cell phone rings. I cough once more, and apparently the fit is over. Noticing my gum is now gone, I think that it's the cause of my choking. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Jamie!" It's Katrina.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Wanna come over to my house for a while to work on our group project for English? I was going to ask you after school, but you weren't over by the busses."

I clear my throat, which is now a bit dry and sore from all of the coughing. "Uh, sure. I'll be right over."

"Okay. See you soon!"

"See ya."

_Click_.

Realizing that I'm still on my knees, I stand shakily, clearing my throat again. I turn to my right to reassure the man in the business suit that I'm alright, but I stop short. He isn't there.

Nobody is.


	3. Running

"_What do you mean, 'I think I saw it?'" Katrina stared at me, perplexed._

"_I _mean_ I think I saw it!" I repeated again._

"_That's insane. It was probably just your imagination."_

"_Don't you think it seems a little to coincidental that I was walking alone, I start coughing, and I see a guy in a black business suit with really long arms?" Now that I said it aloud, it sounded kind of stupid._

"_Look, Jamie, I'm not saying you didn't see it. I just trying to debunk any other possibilities. We're supposed to be skeptical about things like this. Your eyes were playing tricks on you."_

A week has passed since my odd experience in the park on the way home from school. I've taken Katrina's advice, and I'm looking at things from a skeptical standpoint. It still doesn't stop me from having a sliver of hope that I actually saw the Slender Man.

I don't know why, but I've become sort of obsessed with the whole concept of it. An entire folder on my computer is set aside for pictures of it, and I've dedicated hours of reading fanfictions, legends and theories about it. I find it very intriguing.

In fact, I've started doodling in my notebooks during school. I've drawn little stick figure versions of the Slender Man, and a couple realistic pictures of it. Just for the hell of it, you know? During a teacher's lecture, I find myself drawing Operator symbols in the margins of my paper. I notice and always erase them before turning in the paper, but I can't stop drawing them.

On one such occasion, my oh so dear friend, Missy, noticed. She leaned over, rudely peering over my shoulder.

"Hey," she said, "What are you drawing?"

I'm never rude to Missy. There's no point. So I tell you. "It's called the Slender Man."

One of her perfectly waxed eyebrows arched. "What the hell is that?"

I took the liberty of explaining the legend to her in a nutshell. She stared at me.

"What?" I ask after a moment.

Missy smirked, her glossed lips shimmering in the dull fluorescent light. "You're such a freak, Lamie."

_Lamie_. I hate that pet name. I resisted the urge to slap her stupid face.

"This is why nobody likes you," she jeered, ripping the page I was drawing on out of my notebook.

I didn't make any move to retaliate, even though my hands trembled slightly with anger. Missy proceeded to show her little group of followers my picture, and they decided to contribute to my art. At the end of the class period, I received a crumpled piece of paper on my desk. Opening it, I saw that I was my picture, with a few alterations. Missy, or one of her friends, had added a rather large phallus (complete with male fluids) to the Slender Man drawing, along with enormous female breasts. The words "freak", "stupid", "bitch" and alike terms were scribbled all over the paper in red pen.

I set my jaw in rage. I hate Missy. I hate her and all of her stupid friends. They get so much joy out of tormenting me. I hate them.

Switching my iPod on, I put the headphones in and set out in the direction of the park. It's a lovely Saturday afternoon. A great day for a walk. I select the radio app on my iPod and turn it to my favorite station. Stepping to the beat of the song, it takes me only a few minutes to reach the park and start on the trail.

As I walk, try not to stare directly into the forest. After re-watching the Marble Hornets videos yesterday, the Slender Man was still fresh in my mind. Some of the trees resembled it's slim body and arms, and some of the vines hanging down from various plants looked eerily like tentacles reaching down for me.

I turned up the volume of the music and sang along with it quietly to distract myself from my thoughts. No sense in freaking myself out. I've walked this trail a million times, and nothing bad has ever happened to me. Why would it start to happen now? Apparently, self induced paranoia is one of my special talents.

Passing the quarter-mile marker on the path, the music starts to get a little fuzzy, as if I am walking out of range of the radio waves. I flick my iPod, knowing full well that doing so won't do crap, but it holds some sort of consolation as the music clears up. Continuing my walk, I enjoy the songs that play. After a few minutes, however, the fuzziness returns, stronger than last time.

"What the hell?" I mumble to myself, stopping to examine my iPod. I have an excellent signal here, and I can't think of a reason why there would be so much interference. Suddenly, the noise explodes with full out static, making me jump. I stare at the screen, perplexed. Where it normally reads the name of the song, the artist, and other details, there was now a bunch of odd symbols. It looks like the "Wingdings" font on Microsoft Word or something. I try changing the radio station, but the screen and the static remains the same.

Just as I scroll to select one of my own songs, the symbols in the song name change to words. I furrow my brow and read the name of the "song."

_SEES ME._

And the "artist" name has changed as well. One character shows, one little shape that I've gotten to know so well. A circle, with an "x" marked through it.

The Operator symbol.

My heart drops into my stomach as I see this. I blink hard, and look at the screen again, just to make sure that I am seeing this correctly. Sure enough, I'm not hallucinating. After a moment of standing there, dumbfounded, I hurriedly shut off my iPod and shove it into my pocket. I do not want to look at it's screen anymore, for fear of what else might appear on it.

I am overcome with a nauseating wave of paranoia. I try to dispose of it by filling my mind with doubts and reassurances. It's just my imagination. I'm freaking myself out. Someone's playing a trick on me. I'm being delusional. It was a glitch, a fluke.

Breaking into a run, I hurry down the trail, going back the way I came. Every few steps, I swear I hear something running after me. I throw frantic looks over my shoulder, but see nothing in pursuit. Suddenly this park doesn't seem very safe anymore. At least, not at the moment.

Entering the small public restroom, I take a few deep breaths and splash some cold water on my face. I don't dare look at my iPod. Out of the corner of my eye, I see something etched into the wall, among with countless other marks of graffiti. Drying my face off with a paper towel, I lean closer to get a better look at the words. They seem to be carved into the wall by something sharp, like a blade of some sort.

_RUN. HIDE. HE WILL FIND._

I get goose-bumps at the eerie words. However, most bathroom graffiti only makes sense to the person who wrote it. Upon further examination, I see that there is a big "x" over the group of words, like someone tried to cross them out. Glancing at the surrounding graffiti, my eyes widen with realization. I take a step back, to get a fuller view of the wall. Around the words I read, connected to the "x", is a circle.

"Oh my god," I whisper aloud.

There is a giant Operator symbol on the wall. _In_ the wall. Someone took time to _carve_ this into the material of the building. I feel sick to my stomach, but I don't want to go into one of those tiny little bathroom stalls. I run outside, towards my neighborhood.

This is getting bad. This can't be just a coincidence anymore. Something is wrong, and I need to get away from it. Whatever "It" may be.


	4. Nyctophobia

"_You seem a little off today," Katrina commented._

"_Huh?" I asked, not really paying attention._

"_Are you alright?" She looked at me with a concerned expression._

"_I'm… fine," I muttered quietly, letting my hair fall in front of my face._

_Katrina continued to stare at me for a moment, as I watched her through the strands of hair covering my eyes. She was worried, but she couldn't help me even if she knew what was wrong._

* * *

I have stopped walking home from school. The park I loved and trusted has betrayed me, and I'm terrified of what might happen if I go there again. The bus, I've decided, is a much better alternative to whatever awaits me in the forest of that park. I do not want to go back there by myself.

Missy now takes every chance to tease me about my Slender Man stories and drawings. She doesn't understand that it's really a freaky thing. She claims to have Googled it and read about it, but I don't believe her. I've gotten numerous crumpled papers tossed at me, bearing crude drawings of Missy's own version of the Slender Man. I never give her the satisfaction of a reaction, and I just throw them away. Her making fun of the Slender Man bothers me for some reason.

The weekend has arrived. Most kids would be overjoyed at the event, but I dread it. The weekend means no school, and no school means that I'll be all alone for two whole days. I've already asked Katrina about coming over to her house, but she's busy with family. She's the only close friend that I would want to spend time with, and my parents have to go out on a business trip up to Oregon.

I unlock my front door and walk into the empty house. There are no siblings to greet me. Only Charlie, my cat, meows lazily at me from his spot on the rocking chair in the corner of the room. He's a fat tabby, who hardly gets up from the rocking chair except to eat and use the litter box. That probably explains his weight. Even so, he's the sweetest kitty and wouldn't hurt a fly.

"Well, Charlie," I say to him, "it's just you and me for a while…"

* * *

The clock reads a quarter after eleven. I have locked the doors, windows, and any other entrances to the house. The blinds are closed and the curtains are pulled shut. Every light in the house is on. As for me, I sit snuggled on my couch under a blanket, Charlie sitting on his chair.

Since I got home from school, I haven't left the house. I decided that it's best to just chill and try not to freak myself out. I pop a DVD into the player and watch movies continuously into the evening. Careful to watch nothing creepy or scary, I make sure to select a few good chick-flicks and dramatic comedies. A huge bowl of popcorn remains at my side, along with a nice variety of candy. So far, my relaxation strategy is working.

Close, but no cigar.

I sit there, petting Charlie, as Nemo frantically tries to escape the ominous scuba-diver onscreen. Without warning, the TV goes blank, shutting off. A split second later, the power goes out completely. My eyes widened, but I couldn't see anything in the darkness. Being so late in the night, my house is almost completely black inside. Only a faint light from the passing cars and streetlights filters in through minute gap between the curtains and the wall.

Without the movie playing, the room is very quiet. Too quiet. I paw around on the table beside the couch for the flashlight. I find it and switch it on, illuminating the room with its dull, artificial light. It isn't much, but it'll do for now. Charlie purrs beside me, indifferent about this whole ordeal.

After a moment, I stand, deciding to go check out the power box. I kept a steady flow of positive thoughts running through my mind in effort to keep calm, but my hands shook slightly, and my heart fluttered. Even before I knew about the Slender Man, I was still afraid of the dark. Walking out of my living room, I enter the kitchen. I try the light switch, but no lights come on. The door that leads out to the garage is just across the kitchen. From there, the power box is on the wall right beside the door. That won't take me too long to have a look and return to the living room. If all else fails, I'll light some candles and watch my movies on the portable DVD player.

I shine my flashlight at the door and make my way to it. I reach out, grab the doorknob, and gasp slightly in surprise. The knob is extremely cold; freezing, almost. It is as if it's made of ice. The whole room seems chilly now. A shiver runs down my spine, making me shudder. I suddenly don't want to go into the garage. I have a feeling that something is in there, waiting for me in the darkness. Taking a deep breath, I twist the knob and open the door, a bit hesitant to shine my flashlight through the now open doorway. Luckily, no bogeyman pops up to say "boo", and my light reveals nothing but the slightly cluttered garage that I have passed through so many times.

Letting out a sigh of relief and enter, making my way to the power box. Just then, something brushes past my leg. I jump and point my flashlight at the floor. Charlie stands there on his short little legs, looking up at me curiously and purring. He's decided to join me on my trek to the power box. I allow myself to relax again before opening the box and poking around at it.

After a few minutes of staring blankly at the row of switches and buttons, I realize that I have no idea what the hell I'm doing, and decide to go with Plan B. My thoughts are interrupted by a low, guttural noise coming from Charlie. Pointing the light at him, I see him staring intensely in the direction of the door leading back into the kitchen. His fur stands on edge, and his tail is puffed up to twice its size. His lips are curled back, revealing his teeth. He let out a hiss, and goes back to his low growl.

I am startled by this sudden act of aggression. Never in my life have I seen or heard of Charlie hissing or growling at anything. I slowly start to move the light from him to the door. Unsure of whether I want to see the thing that Charlie's hissing at, I hesitate. The light flickers, going dimmer as if the batteries are dying. I know this isn't the case because I myself replaced the old batteries for new ones just yesterday. I bite my lip. In a sudden surge of courage, I shine the light at the doorway that should be empty. Charlie gives a hideous snarl that cuts through the silence like a blade.

Its face. Oh god, its face. It's there. Right there.

The light illuminates it, giving it a moonlike glow. It faces Charlie, its unnaturally long arms hanging by its sides, hands almost touching the floor. My jaw drops open in a silent cry. Its head jerks harshly to look at me. That is, if it had eyes to look with.

The flashlight slips from my hand, clattering to the floor. The light still shines on it. I scream in utter terror, but I have nowhere to run. It walks towards me. No, it glides. The legs move, the arms sway, all the while that blank face staring at me, watching me, coming closer, and closer.

I back up, but a wall soon stops me. I cannot look away from the face. I scream again in vain. I'm frozen. I can't move. I don't hear Charlie hissing or growling anymore. I don't hear anything. Not even my own heartbeat.

From its back extend black arms, arms that are more like tentacles. Five or six of them, at least. Not that I'm counting. I can't look away from the face.

Then I hear it. I hear its voice. It has a voice? Impossible. It has no mouth. How can it speak? It can't. But it does. And I hear it.

/They always scream./


	5. Understanding

I stare at it. My mind is having a very difficult time focusing on the present situation. There, in front of me… It was…. No, it couldn't be… Impossible…

The tentacle arms extend further from its back, stretching. The hands at the end of each arm are thin and pale, the fingers long and slender. They curl and writhe, but so smoothly, it seems perfectly natural. Natural? Ha. Nothing about this… this _thing_, was natural. Nothing at all.

The arms reach for me, and I feel my legs move. No, I see that I am moving, and figure my legs are carrying me. I can't feel them anymore. They are numb. I walk closer. It reaches further for me. Hot tears spill down my face, my vocal cords seeming frozen and unable to make a noise.

/Do not fear/, it tells me in its strange voice that wasn't a voice because it had no mouth and what could speak if it had no mouth? My mind is freaking out.

The voice doesn't sound either male or female. It's just… voice. It doesn't even form the sound of words, but I can understand it perfectly, as if it were speaking plain English.

I walk closer. It reaches further.

One of the tentacle arms slides up my left arm, the hand resting lightly on my shoulder, the way my Mom does when I'm upset at something. My shoulder tingles where the hand touched, the skin going numb after a few moments. Another arm feels its way under my right arm, curving around to my back, pulling me closer to it. Even through my shirt, the skin tingles and goes numb.

I feel light-headed. It is hard to breath. This thing, whatever it was, has a unique aura to it. And it is powerful. A _woosh_ noise fills my ears, a solid white noise, and under it I can hear my heartbeat. But it is not the heartbeat of a terrified teenager who is facing death; It is steady, slow, and calm. Normal. At ease.

/Calm, at ease,/ it whispers, repeating my thoughts to me. Can it read my mind?

There are at least four arms around me now, pulling me. After what seems like an hour, I stand not a foot away from it. The business suit it wears is the color of the night sky on a night without a moon or stars. The blackest black. This makes its skin look even paler. I am pulled closer to it still, into what could probably be called a hug, if I was in a different situation. A wave of tingling overcomes my entire body, pins and needles, then numbness. I've been numb before. But only in one part of my body at a time. This was different. I can't feel anything. Anything. All that is keeping me from dropping to the ground are these tentacle arms. It.

Why isn't it doing anything? I wonder in the back of my mind. I should be dead by now. I should be writhing in pain, screaming. It should be brutally murdering me, filling me with visions of horror and despair. I should be dying slowly, suffering.

But I'm not. I don't feel any pain at all, and I still have my own thoughts. What is it doing?

I feel a hand at my cheek. I am surprised to feel that it is warm, like a normal hand. The fingers curled under my jaw, turning my head up to face it. Its face is inches from mine. My eyes are wide partially in fear, but mostly in awe.

There is absolutely no trace of any feature on its face. It's completely blank. There are no hollows to indicate eye sockets; no trace of a nose or a mouth. It's terrifying, yet comforting. That makes no sense. This creature is supposed to be a mindless killer. At that thought, I feel myself being squeezed tighter by its arms. I feel short of breath.

Then it hits me.

This thing… it's just like me. An outcast. Misunderstood. Stereotyped because of other people's opinions. My vision blurs with tears as the arms loosen their grip. No, it doesn't want to kill me. It's just alone. It's all by itself in this cruel, harsh world full of hurt.

My eyelids suddenly feel heavy, and I let them close. The white noise slowly fades, and the feeling of overwhelming energy gradually disappears. I am vaguely aware of my legs giving out, my entire body going limp, my head lolling back as I let myself go.

I'm still shocked, but not so much afraid. I feel like I understand a part of this creature now. Maybe it was once a person just like me, once upon a time. I think it chose me for a reason, some unknown purpose. But I feel a connection to it all of a sudden. Now I know what it is like to have a direct experience with this… mysterious "Slender Man".

I still feel his arms around me as I drift off into unconsciousness.


	6. A Friendly Warning

My eyelids flutter open, and I am greeted by the gentle rays of the morning sun streaming through the gap between the curtains. I realize that I am on my couch, snuggled under the soft blanket. Charlie is curled up on my stomach, and my arm is wrapped around my now empty bowl of popcorn. The TV screen is on the DVD menu of Finding Nemo. I feel rejuvenated, and tireless. A full night of uninterrupted sleep is exactly what I needed. I stretch, and then I remember. The power outage. The garage. The arms. Him.

Was… was it all a dream?

I sit up so suddenly that Charlie launches himself off my stomach with an annoyed meow, going to sit on the rocking chair. I scramble through the kitchen and to the garage, throwing the door open. Nothing. Just the same, simple garage. My heart sinks. Maybe it was a dream, after all. I close the door, giving a defeated sigh. I wouldn't be surprised if it was just a dream. I've kind of been obsessed with the Slender Man for a while. It's no wonder I had a dream about him.

Then I notice something out of the corner of my eye. I look at the underside of my right arm, and my eyes widen. There, on my skin close to the nook of my elbow, is a scar. But not just any scar; This is in the shape of the Operator symbol. It's about the size of a quarter, and at a glance looks like nothing more than an oddly shaped birthmark. But I know exactly what it means. Last night wasn't a dream. It happened for real.

The rest of the weekend passes without any other experiences of Him. It's almost like the first night didn't even happen. I secretly hope that he will come back again. I don't know why, I just have an aching feeling to see him.

Monday rolls around, and I find myself riding the bus. I still don't trust that park. Missy is up to her antics, yet again. Surprise, surprise. I expect her bullying now.

"Hey, Jamie!" she calls loudly across the bus, "How's your Slender Man doing?"

She and her buddies crack up. I ignore them, glaring out the window.

"I think she likes him because he's a tentacle monster!" shouts Missy's boyfriend, Evan, high-fiving one of his friend. God, he's a dick.

I resist the urge to go back there and punch him in his stupid face, but I stay calm. Bullying the bullies never fixes anything. They continue to laugh and jeer at me. I continue to stare out the window, watching the trees fly. Suddenly, there is a flash of a black suit and long arms, and a milky white head, turned up to look at me. My heart leaps. "It was him!" I accidentally exclaim in the heat of my excitement.

This earns quite a few odd glances and a sizeable awkward silence, quickly followed by the bus erupting in laughter. I feel my face heat up in a deep blush.

"What a freak!" yells Missy.

"Stupid bitch!" shouts one of her friends.

I sink down low into my seat, crossing my arms over my chest self-consciously. What a way to start the week, I think dismally. At least I got to see Him. Even if it was for a split second. Does he know that I want to see him? Probably. He can read my thoughts, can't he?

"Katrina!" I exclaim as soon as I see her, "Katrina, over here!" I wave her over to my lunch table.

"Jeez, calm down," she says teasingly, pulling up a chair. "What's up?"

I'm shaking with excitement. "You will never guess what happened last night."

"Woah there," she says with a smirk.

"Oh, don't be a pervert. This is seriously really, really awesome."

"Alright, alright. I'm listening."

I proceed to tell her my weekend experience. I trust her not to blab to anybody. She swears to take the secret to her grave. She looks at me with an "Are you kidding me?" expression.

"Are you… serious?" she asks almost hesitantly.

"Dead serious."

We stare at each other for a moment. She looks at me expectantly, as if waiting for me to crack up and say "Gotcha!". But I don't, and she blinks in shock.

"Oh. My god."

"I know, right? Isn't it awesome?" I smile widely, unable to contain my happiness.

"Uh, well, that's one way to describe it…"

My smile fades slightly. "What do you mean? I thought you'd be stoked about this!"

"I-I am, I mean, sort of." Sort of?

I looked at her with a confused face. She was silent for a moment. She spoke slowly, picking her words carefully.

"Okay, look, Jamie, it isn't that I don't think it's awesome, it's just… I think you should be really careful. You don't know what that thing can do. All that you know about it has come from online articles, a few fanfictions, and a handful of videos."

I interject. "But Marble Hornets—"

"Marble Hornets isn't real, Jamie," Katrina says firmly, looking into my eyes with sincerity.

I stare at her for a moment, then look down, prodding at my uneaten lunch. "I…"

Katrina sighed. "I'm just telling you to be careful. I don't want anything bad to happen to you. Maybe Marble Hornets isn't that far off from the real truth."

A moment silence stretches between us. This isn't our usual lunchtime conversation. We usually are goofing off, telling funny stories and compiling a list of ways to end the reign of Missy. Even serious topics are only about family and friend issues, nothing this… ominous. Katrina is the more skeptic one of the two of us, and I respect her for it. She holds me back from jumping to conclusions, especially about the paranormal side of things. I can tell that she really is worried about me, so I vow to her not to do anything too reckless or stupid.

"Thank you," she says. She looks relieved, and this makes me feel better. At least she knows about my situation. It was hard not being able to tell her over the weekend.

I look at her to say something, and notice that she's staring past me. I follow her gaze and see that Missy and her group are sitting a few tables away from us. Missy looks and me, then whispers something to her posse, who giggle and point. I catch only the words "stupid" and "freak". I roll my eyes and turn back to Katrina, who has also stopped looking at them.

"The level of maturity simply amazes me," she comments quietly, taking a bite of her food.

I shake my head in disdain, swirling a French fry in ketchup. "You and me both."


	7. Punishment

The following days at school weren't any better. Missy still refused to shut the hell up about me and Slender Man. It's getting increasingly harder to restrain myself around her. I want to scream at her sometimes, or hit her. Some of the thoughts I was having were kind of creepy and disturbing. I found myself having fantasies of beating Missy severely, sometimes even killing her with various tactics. I blame this on all the pent up anger I hold towards her. Of course I don't tell my parents about the problems. My mom would flip a lid and send me to some "how does that make you feel" shrink. Those people claim to actually understand your distress. Oh, please.

Plus, they always make you do these stupid bullshit exercises like deep breathing, and meditations to do when you're upset. I hate visualizing. Once, I went to a counselor as a little kid because I was extremely afraid of the dark. The shrink told me to visualize light filling the dark room I was in so I wouldn't be scared anymore. Are you freaking kidding me? My parents bought me a night light, and my fear was over. That was two hundred bucks down the drain for that damn counselor.

Although, I have to admit that the thoughts I've been having about Missy are kind of scaring me. I didn't know I could have thoughts like this. It's really creeping me out.

"I think you should go to the guidance counselor," suggested Katrina when I told her about my concerns at lunch. "I've been to her before. She's pretty nice."

"No way!" I exclaim. "I'm not going to some stupid counselor. They never help me."

"Well, maybe it'll help to get it off your chest."

"I did. I told you."

"I mean, to someone who's certified to help in this sort of situation."

"No way," I say again. "She'd call my parents and tell them that their daughter is having murderous thoughts. And you know how my Mom is."

Katrina sighs. "Yeah, I guess."

The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. We both stand and grab our backpacks, walking towards our next class.

"Great," I comment, "We have Missy next period."

"Just ignore her," urges Katrina. "That's what you're supposed to do with bullies like her. They'll lose interest."

I adjust my backpack. "I've been trying to do that since seventh grade, remember? She just hates me for some reason. It's like we're sworn enemies for life or something."

This makes Katrina laugh a bit. "Sworn enemies? Yeah, that's it."

X

The class period passes at an unbearably slow pace. Surprisingly, though, I don't hear a peep out of Missy. This was odd. Usually she harasses me every chance she gets. She's unusually idle today.

As I scribble in answers on a worksheet, a folded paper finds its way to my desk from unknown hands. I look up and glance around the class to find a clue as to who the sender is, but everyone is bent over their papers. I look back down at the note. Carefully unfolding it, I blink as I see what is written on it.

Meet me after class in the stairwell behind the library, under the stairs. Make sure you come alone. ;)

Jace

I blink again and look across the class at Jace. I've had a major crush on him since fourth grade, but he's never noticed me. At all. Why would he? He's absolutely gorgeous. I would think he has a girlfriend, but apparently not. Looking at the note again, I contemplate whether I should oblige. Maybe he does notice me, after all. I feel my face heating up in a blush, and my heart speeds up in anticipation. On a whim, I decide that I'll do what the note says.

No one ever uses the stairwell behind the library. It leads down into a hallway that was once used by only the janitors, which is a quite a few twists and turns away from any main school hallway. The stairway itself was rather precarious. It was extremely long and steep, and some of the old wooden steps looked like they would break if too much weight was put on them. There was the occasional rumor of a couple of students going back there to smoke weed, or even to have sex, and it wasn't that hard to believe, once you've seen the place for yourself.

Even so, when the bell rings, I grab my bag and hurry out of class, down the hallway and to the old stairwell. Clutching the note in my hand, I read it over again, just to make sure I'm reading it right. Taking a deep breath, I step into the stairwell.

No one's there. I glance around the hallway.

"Hello…?"

No answer. I make my way down the stairs, stepping carefully as the old wood creaks in protest. I reach the bottom and go under the stairs, obeying the note. The bell rings, signifying the start of fifth period. I'm late for class, now. But I'm curious as to what Jace wants.

I hear someone walking above me, walking down the stairs. I look up hopefully. "Jace?"

Suddenly, I hear a splash, and I'm too surprised to move as a cascade of water is dumped through the stairs and onto me. I scream and run out from under the stairs, and I'm greeting by a chorus of laughter. I should've guessed.

"Oh my god!" Missy exclaimed, standing at the top of the stairs. "You actually fell for it! You're so stupid!"

She had her friend both held a large bucket, which had been filled with the water. They crack up, high-fiving. I stand there, more pissed off than I have ever been.

"I can't believe you thought Jace liked you!" jeers Missy's friend. "He would never fall for some dyke like you!"

I clench my fists, my face red with rage. "Missy, you're such a bitch!" I blurt out.

Missy flips me off. "I'd rather be a bitch than a freak like you!" She laughs again, flipping her hair.

I want to grab her hair and yank it until she screams. I want to slam her stupid face into the wall. I want to scratch deep cuts in that perfect skin of hers so she has hideous scars. I want her to just go and die.

My vision suddenly blurs, and I feel lightheaded for a moment, like I'm about to faint. When I recover, my eyes widen in shock.

There, standing behind Missy at the top of the stairs, is Him.

The next few moments seem to happen in slow motion. His tentacle-like arms extend and grip Missy's shoulders. She turns her head to see who's grabbed her, and He gives her a good shove. Her eyes go wide in terror as her body is thrown down the stairs. She lands face-first on one of the steps, and I hear her nose break. One of her arms gets caught between two steps, and bends the wrong way with a snap. A bloodcurdling scream of pain erupts from her as she continues to tumble down the stairs, blood staining the wood. Her scream is cut off as her head makes contact with the concrete floor, her body moving in a contorted way so that her neck bends too far backwards. It breaks with such a sickening crack that I feel nauseous. There's another noise, somewhere, but I can't make it out.

Missy's fall finally stops, and she lays there in a heap on the ground. Her face is contorted with agony, blood covering her nose and mouth. Bone protrudes from the arm that had caught between the two stairs. Her head is cocked at an angle that would not be possible for a living person. A pool of blood slowly seeps out from her body.

I stand there, in utter shock. It takes me a moment to realize that the other noise is Missy's friend. She's screaming bloody murder. No pun intended.

I don't need to check her pulse to know. Missy Carson is dead.


	8. Discovery

I sit against the cold brick wall of the front of my school, staring at the dull gray pavement. My brain was still having an extremely hard time processing the events that happened a few hours ago. The whole scene replays over and over in my head like a broken record. He appeared. Missy died. He appeared. Missy died. I will never forget what I saw, nor will I ever forget the sound of Evvie Borton's bloodcurdling scream as she witnessed her friend's death. The terrifying noise still rang in my ears.

Evvie was the one who called 9-1-1. The person on the other end of the line had to ask Evvie to repeat herself multiple times because she was talking so frantically and sobbing every three words. I just stood there, staring at the spot where He was. I stood there like a dumbass, not even caring about the dead, mangled body that lay at my feet.

He was there. He pushed Missy down the stairs. He killed her. Why had he done that? Did he do it to warn me? I hated Missy with a fiery passion. If he was threatening me, wouldn't he have chosen someone I cared about to harm? Was he showing me that he was on my side? If this was a peace offering, it was a rather violent way to offer a truce.

I sighed quietly, nudging an ant along with my fingertip. None of this made any sense. Shouldn't I be paranoid and videotaping myself by now? The only thing driving me crazy was the fact that I don't know anything about this situation. I have no idea what to do. I need some damn answers, and I need them soon.

Katrina sits beside me. She understands that I don't want to talk at the moment, and stays silent. Her presence is comforting.

When I finally look up from the ground, the sky has darkened considerably since school was dismissed.

"What time is it?" I whisper.

Katrina looks at her phone. "Almost six thirty." She looks at me, and even out of the corner of my eye I can see how concerned she is. "Are you going to be okay? Do you want a ride home?"

I don't speak for a moment. "I'll walk," I say quietly, standing.

Katrina stands, too. "Are you sure?" she asks cautiously.

"Yeah," I reply, looking out in the direction of the park. I turn to her. "Thanks for staying here with me. I'll see you tomorrow."

I don't wait to hear if she says anything else. I walk briskly off the school grounds, past the baseball diamond and to the trail of the park, where I stop.

This was the place where it all began. The first signs of Him. The trail stretches into the dark forest, curving and disappearing from view. I take a few tentative steps forward, closer to the paved walkway. The trees rustle in the breeze, whispering. A few more steps. A bird chirps.

I step onto the trail, and find that I haven't been breathing for the past minute or so. My muscles are tense, and I force myself to take a few deep breaths and relax. I want to be here, I remind myself. I want answers.

My feet move, walking along the trail. Slowly at first, a reluctant pace. Then faster, as I gain my confidence. Before long I'm almost running, brow furrowed in determination. Suddenly, I find myself veering off the walkway onto a rough trail that leads deeper into the forest. I have no idea where I'm going, but something tells me that it's the right way.

Branches whip my face as I run full speed down the trail, but I only feel a dull sting. Adrenaline controls me now.

There is a break in the trees, and I'm staring at an abandoned building. It isn't very big, maybe the size of a small, one-story house. I take a few steps closer, and realize that this is where I need to be.

The door on the house, hanging on by one hinge, dons the Operator symbol in white spray paint.

After a moment of taking the whole scene in, I make my way to the front step of the house and gently push the door open. Inside is empty, save for a few dirty cardboard boxes. Curiously, I go forward and open one of the boxes. Empty. I toss it aside, and grab the second box. Empty, except for some mouse crap. Awesome. I reach for the third box. Third time is the charm, right?

I pull open the worn cardboard flaps, and blink as I see the contents of the box. A black Swiss Army brand backpack sits inside. I pick it up, surprised at its heaviness. Plopping down beside the box, I unzip the bag and dump its contents onto the floor. Three VHS tapes clatter to the ground, all inside sturdy plastic cases. A silver pocket watch also falls out, along with a map. I have a fleeting memory of a Nancy Drew game I used to play on the computer.

The sky outside is getting darker, turning orange with the setting sun. I should be getting home soon. I can have a closer look at these items in my room after my parents go to bed.

Things aren't getting better, but I feel like these items are clues to the answers I'm so desperately looking for.


	9. Jedd and Callie

After returning home, I locked myself in my room and dumped the items onto my bed. The pocket watch is broken; the time is stuck at six thirty-two. It's so beautiful, though. An ornate design covers the front of it, and on the inside there is an inscription in a delicate script: _To my dear Callie, with love from Jedd. May time never separate us._ The watch must have been a special gift.

I already know that there isn't a VHS player anywhere in my house, so I set the tapes aside to examine later. Grabbing the map, I unfold it and lay it flat on my bed. Recognizing many of the names, I realize that it's a map of my county. There are three places circled in black Sharpie. Each circle is labeled with a number. I look at number one. The location is familiar to me. It's an old pawn shop across the street from the big shopping mall. I've never been inside the shop, but I pass it every time my Mom and I go into town.

I don't know the immediate locations of numbers two and three, but a quick search on Google Maps will solve that. Since the pawn shop is the closest, I decide to travel there first.

X

I stand outside the pawn shop, staring up at the dilapidated building. The "W" in "pawn" was crooked, and the light didn't work anymore, so the sign appeared to say "Pan Shop." I never noticed how dumpy this place was. Adjusting my backpack, I push open the door, causing a pathetic little doorbell to ring. No one was at the counter, so I proceed to poke around the shop. I don't know what I'm looking for. Anything, I suppose. The person who marked this place on the map obviously thought it was important.

I pass a shelf full of old TV sets. They are all turned to the same channel, so there was that weird echo thing going on. I always found that creepy.

A sudden sound startles me, and I turn to see a stout man emerging from a door behind the front desk.

"Whatdaya want?" he demands in an annoyed voice.

I made my way over to the desk. "I'm just looking."

"Just looking, eh?" He peers at me over his glasses, squinting. "Ya know what the last kid did when he told me he was 'just looking?' He went and stole a bunch a stuff! Right out from under my nose! Nobody comes into here to 'just look!'"

I blink. "Uhm… I don't want to steal anything, sir."

"Yeah, yeah. I know what you young people do these days. All that smokin' and stuff. What a generation. Back in my day…"

He proceeds to tell a story about himself in his youth, but I wasn't listening. My eyes drift to his name tag, and I blink again. In block letter stickers, the name spells out "Jedd." I feel the weight of the watch in my pocket, and I touch it with my hand.

"Jedd."

The old man stops his anecdote and peers at me. "Oh good, you can read."

I try not to roll my eyes, and decide to take a chance. Was this why the map was marked here? I pull out the pocket watch and show it to him. "Does this belong to you or someone you know?"

Jedd squints at the watch. He takes it into his own hands and examines it, furrowing his brow. He opens the watch, and his eyes widen. I swear I see his eyes glaze over with fresh tears. He doesn't speak, he just stares at the inside of the watch.

"Jedd…?" I ask after about a minute of silence passing.

The old man starts a bit, as if being broken away from a train of thought. "Where… Where did you find this?"

"I… found it when I was in the woods."

Jedd takes his glasses off and wipes his eyes.

"So… are you the Jedd that gave this watch to… what's her name?"

"Callie," he says quickly, "Callie was her name. She was my wife. I gave this to her our thirtieth anniversary."

"You refer to Callie in the past tense, sir?" I feel like I'm prying, but I need to get some answers.

Jedd's gaze returned to the watch. "She… she died about twelve years ago."

"O-oh… I'm sorry… could I ask what the cause was?"

He hesitated. "She…uhm… she was…" he trails off and I don't quite catch what he says, and I decide to stop. This was obviously a very sensitive subject, and I didn't want to upset him too much. "Do you have any VHS players?" I ask suddenly, and he is visibly relieved by the change in subject.

"Yeah, over near the back there," he pointed.

I make my way over to the shelf. The cheapest one is thirty bucks. I don't have that much money and the moment, nor do I feel like lugging this thing home with me. It would raise questions from Mom, and she'd wonder where I found the tapes. Even worse, she would want to know what was on the tapes. If they had anything to do with Him, it can't be good. I can't risk getting my family involved in this.

I took a moment to picture Mom's reaction to me telling her about Him. Oh hey Mom, by the way, there's this tall faceless guy who killed Missy at school. But we're cool, he's on our side. I think. And he has tentacle arms and made me pass out by hugging me in the garage. Ha! She'd totally flip and probably ground me for a month for making up such an absurd story. Knowing her, she'd assume that I had gotten a hold of some drugs or something from someone at school. Dear god, that would cause a scene. I smile to myself at the absurdity of the situation that would unfold.

I turn and go over to the door to leave, but Jedd stops me.

"Wait, hey, uhm," he hesitates, looking at the watch. "You… do you want this back?" He holds it up.

I feel a pang of sadness. The watch means a lot to this man. I can't just take it from him after reuniting it with its owner. Smiling a little, I shake my head. "No… you deserve to have it back. I'm sure Callie would want you to have it."

Jedd stares at me for a moment, and then returns my smile. "Thank you," he says, and for the first time he doesn't sound angry or annoyed.

"Have a nice evening," I say as I leave the shop.

I will return on Saturday to buy the VHS player, and then I will find out what's on those tapes. In the mean time, I'll visit the other two locations marked on the map.

After hearing the tragic story of Callie, I'm now curious at how she died, and why Jedd didn't want to tell me.

I have a feeling that there's something more to their story.


	10. Tape 1

After about a week, I saved up enough money to go and buy the VHS player from the pawn shop. Jedd was curious at why a "youngster" like me would want such an old device, and I told him that my mom had found some old home videos she wanted to watch. He seemed to buy the story. Why wouldn't he?

I go into my room and lock the door. It takes me almost fifteen minutes to get the VHS player plugged into my TV and working. Reaching under my bed, I retrieve the bag with the tapes, dumping them onto the floor. Two tapes clatter out of the bag. After a moment of investigation, I realize that the third tape is gone. I shake the sudden feeling of paranoia as I grab the two remaining tapes. I have to focus on one problem at a time. I decide to look for the lost tape after watching whatever is on the other two.

"Alright… here goes…" I mutter to myself, popping the first tape into the VHS player.

The first couple minutes are nothing but static and fuzz, so I fast-forward until a picture comes up. My eyes widen as I immediately recognize the setting. It's my school. In the hallway where Missy fell down the stairs and died. Where I saw Him.

The camera appears to be pointing in through the window at the top of the stairs, and the picture wiggles occasionally as if someone is holding it. After a few minutes of nothing happening, I watch in shock as I enter the hallway, clutching the so-called love note in my hand. The camera angle shifts to get a better view of the hall. The event plays out exactly as I remember it. My heart pounds. I know what comes next.

"I'd rather be a bitch than a freak like you!" Missy jeers at me, her perfect voice seeming hollow and distorted through the speakers of the television.

I watch myself double over, clutching my head at the sudden wave of dizziness, when the volume of the video suddenly cuts out. The voices are replaced with a horrifying sound that resembles feedback from a microphone, and I pound the volume button on the remote with shaking fingers. The video distorts, twisting and flashing, blurring and going fuzzy, and through the chaos I can make out the clear figure of Him, standing at the top of the stairs.

The video freezes, the picture stuck, unmoving. The feedback noise continues, however, and I can hear the sound of Missy's body tumbling down the stairs accompanied by the bloodcurdling screams of her companion.

The picture advances again, only enough for me to see Him turn his head towards the position of the camera. Whoever is holding the camera apparently sees this and turns the camera away from the window. At this point, the video cuts out, and I am staring at a blue screen.

I sit there on my floor, my hand holding the remote in a death grip. I finally pull myself together and hit the fast-forward button to see if there's anything more on the tape. The tape ejects automatically when it gets to the end, and it pops out onto the floor. Only then do I see what is scratched into the black plastic on the front of the tape. A circle with an "X" through the middle.

His symbol.


	11. Tape 2

I feel dizzy. It's hard to breath. I stare at the blank screen for several minutes, trying to decide what to do. Questions flew through my mind. Who took this video? Why had they taken it? How did they know when it was going to happen? Was I meant to find this? Is this mystery person on my side, or on His side? Hell, I don't even know whose side He is on.

What do I do?

I turn my gaze away from my television and to the second tape. I want to watch it, but at the same time, I'm terrified to do so. Another question makes its way into the chaos of my thoughts. Where is the third tape? I hadn't taken it from the bag since I shoved it under my bed. Had someone else taken it? My Mom? No, she would have mentioned something. Who else? The same person who took this video?

Oh, God.

I glance at my window and make sure that it's locked, and I shut the blinds for good measure. Someone is watching me, and I don't like it. I don't like it at all. What I wanted was answers, but all I'm getting is an even worse case of paranoia. I look at the second tape again, and sit down in front of my TV. It takes me a few minutes arguing with my shoulder consciences for me to decide to watch the second tape. I'm already in too deep as it is, why should I stop now?

I guide the second tape into the slot and hit the play button. The VHS whirs quietly as the film begins to roll. I brace myself and prepare for the worst, though I have no idea what the worst may be. I don't think I want to find out.

The picture comes into focus. It's the front of my school. The view looks like it's from the parking lot. My heart drops. How did I not notice someone in the parking lot with a camera? I'm sitting there with Katrina, the day Missy died. After a few minutes, I get up and walk off screen, going to the trail that leads through the park.

The camera cuts out and the picture changes. This time, it shows the main street that runs through my town. I enter the frame, walking on the sidewalk. The camera follows me as I go, and zooms in as I enter 7-11. It keeps track of me through the window of the small store, and follows me again as I exit and begin my walk home. Why did this person video tape this? They must know I frequent this place. Maybe they wanted to keep note of it.

It cuts out and changes again. It's that odd little abandoned house I found when I adventured off the trail in the park. Where I found the tapes. Whoever is holding the camera walks forward and enters the house. They slip a backpack off and set it on the floor, setting the camera down beside it. By the way this person's legs look, I assume that it's a guy.

I watch as he unzips the bag and puts two tapes into it. When he reaches over to the camera and the picture cuts out, I assume it's to put this current tape into the bag as well.

When the picture appears again, I'm caught off guard by the setting. A small sound of fear escapes me as I stare at the front of my house on the television.

This person knows where I live.


	12. Tension

**A/N: Chapter 12 is finally here! And it's a full-length chapter! Yay for not being lazy! XD I want to thank you guys so much for following this. It's my second most popular story on here. When I first started, I never thought it would get this much attention! Thank you, those who take the time to read this! :) I know I sometimes take a while to update, but I'm doing my best! I've got a real plot twist in mind, so stay tuned!**

"Jamie, you can't keep going on with this. You have to stop. Just drop it, and stop investigating."

I sigh for the umpteenth time, resting my elbows on the table. "I can't just stop, Katrina."

"Yes you can," she insists. "Throw those tapes away and just let it go. You don't know how dangerous this can get."

"Neither do you," I counter. "You haven't even seen anything. I've seen Him, Katrina."

"I have seen something. In fact, I'm looking at it right now."

At this, I look over my shoulder, expecting to see Him standing behind me. He isn't. There's just the unorganized layout of the busy cafeteria. He wouldn't appear to me in such a crowded place. Or would He? He's sort of unpredictable. That's probably why He ends up scaring people. He's unexpected.

"I'm talking about you, Jamie."

I look at her in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Ever since you told me about seeing it in the park, you've… changed." She prods at her food.

"I haven't changed. I'm still Jamie. I'm still your friend."

"I know, but…. You just seem different. You're…" Katrina sighs, as if at a loss for words.

"Katrina… I told you that I would be careful. And I am. This obviously has something to do with me personally."

"What if he's just a creepy stalker? Call the police!"

A few other students look over at us, giving us questioning glances. Katrina and I turn our gazes to the table, being silent for a moment.

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into," Katrina whispers to me.

"You're right. I don't. But I want to know why the hell someone is stalking me. They know about Him."

"Which is exactly why you should drop this."

"Why do you think He's so bad, Katrina? Honestly! Screw the Internet. It always blows things way out of proportion."

"Are you defending it?" Katrina stares at me in disbelief.

"Yes, I am. At He isn't an 'it,' He's a 'he.' I think He's just a misunderstood creature."

Katrina continues to stare at me. A moment of silence passes between us.

"…"

"…"

I look down at my tray and continue eating my lunch.

X

Upon examining the map that was in the bag with the tapes, I realize the obvious: The other two locations were my school and my house. I smack myself for not recognizing something I should have noticed right off the bat. Whoever Mr. Video was, he's showing himself up to be a definite stalker-type. I sigh and put the map back into the bag, shoving it under my bed.

The cool night breeze makes me shiver, and I hear a noise at my window, making me look over. A paper airplane has landed on the sill, appearing to have some sort of writing on it. Picking it up, I unfold it and read it.

_The more you know about Him, the more He knows about you. Escape while you can, Jamie Warren. You have a very slender chance._

The handwriting seems oddly familiar. I know I've seen it before, but I can't remember where. I squint at it, trying to remember, but the correct memory doesn't come to me.

I admit that this warning is a bit unsettling, but I don't mind it. I don't believe that He will hurt me, as long as I don't make him out as some psychotic murder demon-thing, or whatever the Internet says he is. Crawling into bed and shutting the light off, I decide that He's like a ghost. People are usually afraid of ghosts, but they aren't hurting anyone. I close my eyes. He just wants someone to see him, someone to acknowledge his presence. He killed Missy, but it was a move of protection. The thought makes my heart skip.

Does that mean that, in a way, He cares about me?


	13. Sweet Dreams are Made of This

**A/N: Sorry for the long update time, guys. I just started school and I am BUSSYYYYYY! XD So, I have a few announcements.**

**Numero Uno, I set up a Slendy forum, so search for Slender Man Mythos under the forums tab.  
**

**Also, I've decided to try making a website for A Slender Chance. Google aslenderchance on webs . com :) It's also posted on my Facebook.  
**

**Aaaand, lastly, please pay a visit to my author page on Facebook! :) Just search Erinn Mellas. You'll recognize the A Slender Chance cover.  
**

**Thank you all so very much for reading and reviewing. Seriously, those reviews of yours make my heart skip a beat when I see it pop up in my inbox! :) Enjoy the chapter!**

**-Erinn Mellas**

_He's there again. Standing at my window. He's right there._

_The pale skin lacks a face, but I know he's looking right at me. Why else would he be here?_

_He doesn't do anything. He just stands, unmoving._

_/You are bothersome./_

_I've gotten used to his strange way of speaking, but I still hate it with every ounce of my being. "Fuck you," I reply sharply._

_A sound emits from his form, resembling an odd, distorted chuckle. I blink once, and he's gone._

_But I know he'll come back._

X

I'm trying to figure out what to do now. Over the past couple weeks I've been given a lot of information. However, none of it lines up. I don't know enough yet. All I've succeeded in doing is getting on a first name basis with the geezer who owns the pawn shop and discovering I have a stalker.

Recent events have brought of tons of new questions, too. Who's the stalker? Why are they stalking me? How did Jedd's pocket watch end up in the stalker's backpack? Why didn't Jedd want to talk about Callie?

I've decided that one of my new priorities will be to go in and talk with Jedd again. I haven't been to the pawn shop since I purchased the VHS player, and I have a strange feeling that the old man is hiding something important.

I am snapped out of my thoughts as I step off the edge of the curb, an oncoming car blaring its horn at me. Stumbling back onto the sidewalk, I realize how much darker the sky has gotten. The library is a half-hour walk from my house. My bicycle tires were flat, so I had no other way of transportation. On occasion, I choose to do my homework at the library. I've done so more often as of late, because ever since I saw my house on the stalker's video, I don't really feel safe at home.

The digital readout on my phone tells me that it's almost seven o' clock in the evening. Continuing down the sidewalk, I decide to cut through an alleyway to get home before dark. Yeah, yeah. You're probably thinking, "Jamie, what the hell are you doing? Everyone knows that a young girl going down an alley in the evening is going to end up bad." Heck, I can't blame you for believing that.

Because that's exactly what happened.

Everything goes fine until I get halfway down the darkened street. Three men amble into my line of sight; all of them are at least a foot taller than me. I continue on my way, trying to walk with purpose, and I avert my gaze so I stare straight ahead. Even so, my heart starts racing.

One of the men whistles at me. Another steps in front of me. "Hey, sweetheart," he says. I can tell by the sound of his voice that his lips are turned up in a sly smirk.

"Excuse me," I utter quietly, trying to get around him. My path is blocked by the third man.

"You look cold," he purrs, "want me to warm you up?"

Adrenaline already pulses through my veins. How could I have been this idiotic?

"Excuse me," I say again with more force, daring to turn my head up and meet the man's gaze.

He chuckles, smirk widening. "I don't think you understand, baby doll."

My wrists are suddenly drawn together, and I'm shoved into the wall of the alley, face first. The man who pins me down clamps his hand over my mouth just as I open it to scream. A million thoughts race through my head. I struggle, but the hands gripping my wrists squeeze painfully.

"She's adorable," one of them comments.

"I bet she's still a virgin," replies the one who's holding me against the wall.

His palm smacks against my butt. Oh, HELL no. I bring my right foot back as hard as I can, and I feel it collide with something that feels like a kneecap. Butt-smacker yells out in pain, and my head is slammed against the alley wall as a punishment. Seeing stars, I groan behind the hand that covers my mouth. The realization of what is happening finally washes over me.

Butt-smacker, seeming to be the leader of this trio, shouts some very vulgar commands at the other two, and my heart drops.

Oh, god. What do I do? This isn't happening. It can't be. Not me. Not now. Why?!

I squeeze my eyes shut. So this is it, then. This is how I'll lose my virginity. I feel hands grabbing at my shirt, threatening to tear the thin fabric.

"Heh, this'll be fun… Hey, woah, what the… what the hell is tha—" the man's voice is cut off as he lets out a horrified scream of absolute terror.

The hands holding me down release me, and I'm able to turn around to see what was going on.

Standing about six feet away, on the other side of the alley, is Him.

The long tendrils that protrude from His back are wrapping themselves around Butt-smacker, who seems to be slowly consumed by the blackness. He's screaming the whole time, struggling wildly, but He does not let him go. The other two guys stand there, literally frozen in fear.

The slender being brings Butt-smacker closer to him, holding him level with His pale, featureless face. The man stops screaming almost instantly, his eyes widening to their full extent. It becomes eerily silent in the alley, as if the whole world has stopped, except for what is going on right here. The other two guys stare at the white face also, in mesmerized horror.

After what seems like an hour but was probably just a single minute, all three men collapse onto the ground, motionless. Their eyes are wide open, staring at nothing, their breathing barely visible. They look dead at first glance.

I turn my gaze to Him, who now has his head turned toward me. Can He see me? He must be able to. If He can speak with no mouth, can He see with no eyes?

I suddenly realize that it's difficult to look directly at Him. His presence, his aura— it intensely radiates raw, untamed power.

I can almost see the shift of energy around Him as he extends his hand toward me. The skin, like his head, is pale white, as if there is no blood in His veins. The fingers are long and slender, just like Him. His palm is turned upwards, and I automatically reach out, resting my own hand on His.

The sensation that rips through my being is indescribable. I feel like every molecule in my body is taken apart, and then reassembled. For a split second, I am drifting between dimensions. I am nothing. The world is nothing. Nothing exists but Him. He is the only thing that ties me to anything.

/Jamie…/

_Jamie… Jamie… Jamie!_

"Jamie, wake up! Jamie, honey!"

My eyes snap open. I sit straight, and I'm covered in cold sweat. My heart pounds, my breath comes in ragged gasps. My mom jumps back a bit in surprise. A furrowed crease is obvious between her eyebrows, which are knit in concern.

"Jamie, are you alright?" she asks urgently, putting a hand on my face.

"I-I… what…" my voice is shaky, hoarse. Glancing around, I realize that I'm lying on the couch in the living room of my house.

"You were passed out in the driveway when I got home! Are you sick? Did you drink enough water today? Did you go somewhere other than the library?"

Memories flooded back to me. The alley. The men. Him.

How had I gotten back to my house? I need to think of an explanation to calm Mom down.

"I…I didn't eat today. Or drink any water. Sorry," I apologize, going with the lack of sustenance excuse.

She shook her head in disbelief. "You had me worried sick! Don't you ever do that again, Jamie!"

"Sorry," I say again, not really sure how to react to her worry. "I'll be alright, really."

"I'll make some dinner. You lay here and rest. I'll bring it out to you in a few minutes." She stood and left, going into the kitchen.

I lie there for a moment, trying to make sense of what happened. The specific memory of me taking His hand flows into my mind. I look down at my own hand, turning it over to see my palm. I flex my fingers a bit, almost wanting to feel the touch of His hand again.

If this was all just a dream, I didn't want to wake up.

**A/N: Thank you for reading! Please review or shoot me a PM! :D**


	14. Part I

**A/N: I haven't updated in a month! Argh! I'm really bad at this, guys, sorry! XD And I'm sorry this is a rather short chapter. I keep apologizing, but I want you to know I'm not doing this on purpose. :D Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews and PMs! Also, a reassurance to those who were thinking that the story was over: No worries! It is NOT finished yet. You will know when it is done. :)**

**-Erinn Mellas**

_The digital clock reads three thirty-two in the morning. The house is dark, silent. Down the hall the parents sleep, their door slightly ajar. They are at peace. This is their safe place. They are safe here._

_On the opposite end of the hall the pink door to her room is closed. The girl lays in her bed quietly, snuggled under her blankets. But she isn't asleep._

_She's awake, waiting._

_Her room is the typical style for an eight year-old girl. The walls, painted with the same pink as the door, are decorated with stickers of brightly colored flowers. Stuffed animals sit contently in a hammock which slings across one corner of the room._

_The wind rustles the trees outside, creating a soft hushing sound. The shadows of the swaying branches dance on the pale window blinds, and she watches with awe._

_She sits up in her bed, holding her favorite fuzzy blanket close. The shadows, they look like his arms. But not quite. His arms are different, lithe and fluid. The branches are jagged and sharp. They don't resemble his arms anymore, decides the girl with disappointment in her eyes._

_Where is he?_

_The girl slips out of her bed and steps over to her door, pulling it open just enough to see into the hallway. The dull glow of her parents' television illuminates the hall slightly. They are asleep. They would have turned the TV off by now if they weren't._

_The girl closes the door and turns around. She lets out a quiet squeak of alarm. "Hey!"_

_He stands beside her bed. Tall and slender and dark. He says nothing._

_A childish smile spreads across the girl's lips. She skips over to him happily. "I thought you weren't going to come!"_

_/I do not lie./_

_She giggles. She likes it when he speaks without talking. "Come on, let's play a game!"_

_He doesn't say anything. He never says much._

_The girl opens a cabinet that sits next to her dresser and sifted through the Barbie dolls and stuffed animals. "What should we play?"_

_She turns to look at her friend, but he isn't there anymore. Furrowing her brow, she steps to the window and peers outside. He stands just beyond the fence that surrounds her house. His pale head turns to look at her, and she stares back._

_Uncertain, she glances back behind her, her eyes resting on the closed pink door. Her parents are still asleep. They wouldn't hear her if she snuck out of the window. She's done it before. Turning back to the window, she shifts the latch and slowly pushes the window open. It squeaks quietly as she eases her way over the sill, her bare feet resting on the rough shingles of the roof. She steps carefully to the gutter and drops down, buckling her legs and rolling onto her side._

_Looking up with a satisfied smile, he is gone again. No longer beside the fence. Her smile fades and she walks to the other side of the fence. He now stands across the street, at the edge of the forest that runs along the side of her neighborhood. Tall, dark and mysterious. Just like him. She'd never been in the forest before, but he obviously wants her to follow him._

_The girl stepped onto the cool asphalt of the street and hurries across to stand next to him. "Why do you want to go in here?"_

_He says nothing, but drifts into the forest. He doesn't really walk, but he doesn't float either. He has his own way of moving with moving, just like his strange way of speaking._

_The girl turns to take a last look at her house. Her room light suddenly turns on, illuminating the yellow square in the darkness. Silhouettes of her parents flit across the window, and a horrified yell is heard when they realize their daughter is gone. The shadow of her father fills a portion of the light. After a moment he shouts the girl's name and points directly at her._

_The girl's eyes widen, and she turns to her friend, but he's disappeared again. He wants her to go into the forest._

_/Follow./ she hears his voice say._

_Her parents have left her room and are probably going to burst out the front door any second. They'll be furious with her when they catch her._

_/If they catch you./_

_She looks to the forest again. The darkness stretches out before her, but it is suddenly inviting. Go into the forest, go._

_Sprinting, she takes off into the unknown._


	15. Part II

_She runs deeper and deeper into the forest. Keep running, her mind tells her, keep running. The girl wonders where her friend has gone. Why did he leave me? Her parents scramble after her, running into the dark forest. They are without a flashlight to guide their way. The girl has no light either, but she dodges the trees and their branches as if she knew the forest by heart._

_Step to the left here, jump over the ditch, duck under the drooping branch, skip around the fallen oak. The girl had never been to this forest before, but she knew its layout completely. She calls out to her friend. No response. Keep running, keep running._

_She can hear footsteps behind her. Her parents yell for her, shouting her name, pleading for her return, threatening her with consequences. Keep running. As she leaps over a log, her foot catches on it and she trips, falling face-first onto the ground. Her knee stings and she feels the slice of a cut on her cheek. The footsteps are closer now, closer, closer._

"_What the hell are you doing?!" the voice of her father shouts._

_She feels his strong grip on her arm, wrenched up from the ground to her feet. Her heart pounds with fear as she stares up at the broad figure of her father, who bristles with anger._

"_Are you insane?! Do you want some pervert to kidnap you!? What if you got yourself lost in here? Were you even thinking at all?!"_

_The girl flinches back, the words hurting as much as her scrapes. "I-I was following my friend!" she insists. She is thrown sideways as the back of her father's hand connects with her face with a loud SMACK! He seizes her by the shoulders, shaking her like a ragdoll._

"_You idiotic little brat! I'm tired of hearing about your damn imaginary friend! He doesn't exist, you got that?! He isn't…real…" His eyes drift upwards from the girl, resting on something behind her._

_Her father's eyes slowly widen to their full extent, reflecting pure terror. He lest go of the girl and steps back, gaze not wavering. "Oh my god," he whispers, "Oh my god…what is that…what IS THAT?!"_

_The girl doesn't need to look back to know what her father is seeing. Her friend gets angry when people say mean things to her. "My friend is real," she says confidently, "and he doesn't like it when you yell at me. He tells me to run away. He takes care of me. You don't."_

_She steps forward, and her father steps back, horrified. She reaches out a hand to him, her fingernails darkening until they are completely black. Veins in her arms suddenly stand out, pushing against the skin. They get bigger and more prominent, and they look like they are moving under her skin. The veins grow to the back of her hand, then to the tips of her fingers. The nails start to extend to disgusting lengths, going limp and becoming a tentacle-like structure. The new appendages writhe and twist like snakes, appearing to beckon the other man closer._

_The father lets out a strangled noise between a gasp and a whimper of fear. "What are you?! What the hell are you?!" he screams, wielding a puny pocket knife. "You're not my daughter, you demon! Go back to hell where you came from!"_

_The figure that stands behind the girl steps forward also, seeming to meld together with his companion. The girl's form is engulfed in the black darkness. The creature growls, almost sounding like a chuckle. The man grips the cross necklace that hangs from his neck, slashing with the pocket knife. "You can't hurt me, you demon of hell! God protects me!"_

_Her voice drifts from the faceless creature, though the innocent little girl chime is somehow distorted and hollow. But the sadness and betrayal cannot be mistaken._

"_Daddy, do you hate me? Why do you hate me so much, Daddy?"_

XXX

I wake up with a jolt, sitting straight up in my bed. My heart pounds and I am breathing as if I've been running. After a moment I realize that I'm drenched in cold sweat. Even my blanket is slightly damp. What the hell did I just dream about?

I take a minute to calm down and get my heart rate down to normal. My thoughts are racing, so I lay down and close my eyes, trying to make sense of the dream. I don't usually dream about Him, but when I do it's nothing like that. The dreams never last very long, and He doesn't appear much. He's always gone by the time my brain registers that He's there. What was this all about?

Some creepy-ass little girl with an abusive Dad. Alright, I've seen enough movies with that scenario. It remotely makes sense. But the thing with Him… I didn't understand. Was she…a part of Him? It looked like she just melted into His form or something. It seemed that he liked her, too. He was her friend. Sort of like with me, I think. Honestly, these past month has been really confusing and hard to make sense of. But I think He's on my side, and I'm not going to object.

I didn't recognize the girl or the parents, but the location seems vaguely familiar. I can't put my finger on it, but I know I've seen that forest before, which creeps me out. I glance at my clock, and it reads three thirty-two in the morning. Ugh. Nothing like waking up right at the witching hour. Great, now I'll never go back to sleep.

I run my fingers through my hair, and I notice that I have a strange tingling at my fingertips. My nails, specifically. Have you ever smashed your finger in a door? You know how, after the initial pain fades, a dull ache remains? That's what this feels like. All of my fingers throb with each heartbeat, and I flex my hands a few times, trying to shake it off. This dream is affecting me physically, I think.

I'm planning to talk with Katrina about this more. We haven't talked much lately, and I feel like we're drifting apart. But maybe she'll be able to help. I hope.


	16. Improbable

**A/N: Oh. My. Slendy. I am seriously sorry for the two-month wait for this chapter! Gah! To those who thought it was cancelled, I apologize deeply. I wish there were more hours in a day that I could spend working on this. Your reviews and favorites and alerts really keep me going! I'll try to get better at updating at a faster pace, but AP exams are getting ever so closer, which means more studying! :) Hang in there, friends!**

**Stay slender,**

**Erinn**

**X**

I decide that I will not tell my mom about this. Any of this. The last experience was a close one, and I almost had to tell her the truth, but luckily she bought the whole I-didn't-eat-or-drink-all-day story. My mom doesn't even keep up with the latest movies, let alone the latest supernatural, teleporting faceless beings. She wouldn't understand, and probably would send me to the nut-house.

I'm not sure what is going on with Katrina. She acts strange around me, as if I have a disease and she might catch it. She hardly returns my texts anymore. When she does, it resembles something with motherly concern like, "Are you okay?" or "How are you doing?". Conversations last a few minutes at best, almost always ending in an awkward, silent farewell. For once I feel almost… alone.

So, I decide to branch out. Obviously I'm not going to get the answers I need from close to home. I need to get some other opinions, to convince myself that I'm not crazy.

X

The dim computer screen flickers to life as I hit the power button on the monitor, wiggling the mouse impatiently. I glance around behind me as I wait for the log-on to load, observing the other library visitors. They mill about as usual not paying any special attention to me. To them, I'm just another teenage girl hanging out at the library. How wrong they are, and they don't even know it.

The computer finally logs on, and I open the internet browser. I type a few words into the Google search bar and press Enter, clicking on the first result. A forum is what I am searching for. A discussion board, a place with other people who know about Him. More specifically, a place with other people who have had experiences. Like me.

The forum is well organized with a nifty navigation bar on the side of the screen. I click on the tab labeled _Personal Experiences_. Bingo.

A lengthy list of discussion threads loads onto the page, containing a variety of interesting titles. Some in all caps, some short and simple, some just a long string of random symbols. I click on one at random.

_Day 27. Twelve days without incident. Have not slept for periods longer than one hour. More glyphs have appeared on my room walls. Longer periods of memory loss…._

I wrinkle my nose and click forward to the next thread. Click.

_OH MY GOD I SAW HIM AGAIN TODAY. HE WAS STANDING RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME AND HIS TENTACLES WERE EVERYWHERE, I WAS SO TERRIFIED SOMEONE HELP PLEASE…._

Click.

The next post contained ten badly photoshopped pictures of "Slender".

Click.

_I haven't seen it yet, but I know it's there. I can feel it, you know? Like that feeling you get when someone's watching you but you can't see them, but you know they're like right behind you? It's creeping me out big time, guys…._

I click again with an annoyed exhale, my eyes scanning the rest of the thread titles. None of them jump out at me, and my eyes drift back up to the top of the page. They rest on the small button that reads _New Thread_. On a whim, I click on it and begin typing out brief descriptions of my experiences. I've got nothing to lose. My reputation as sane disappeared thanks to Missy, so what the hell. Besides, I am trying to find answers to my situation. It would make no sense to be all secretive about what's happened.

As I click _Submit_, a thought nagged in the back of my mind. What if these people aren't telling the truth? Are they lying about their experiences? Am I lying about mine? Did they even happen? Am I insane and imagining all of this?

I stop myself there, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, I mentally tell myself to calm the hell down. My situation is already messed up. I don't need my head to come off in the middle of it all. Keep your cool, Jamie. Keep calm and carry… Whatever.

When I open my eyes, scroll my mouse over to close out of the website, but a small blinking box catches my gaze. In the bottom right corner of the screen, it says that I have a new private message from someone called Improbable. Curious, I click on it and open the message.

-Improbable: I read your post. Sounds interesting. Tell me more?

I stare at it for a moment, dumbfounded. That thread was posted only minutes ago, and already I have someone asking me about it. They think it's _interesting_. After a moment of wallowing in my own awe, I type back a quick reply.

-Charlie221: It's a long story.

The other person's response comes within a few seconds.

-Improbable: I've got time.

-Charlie221: I don't right now. There's only ten minutes left on the library computer.

-Improbable: Ah. Don't have your own computer?

-Charlie221: I do, I just… don't want my mom to find out about some stuff. She can be a little nosy sometimes.

-Improbable: My parents are the same way. I understand.

I stare at the screen, chewing on my lip. Maybe this "Improbable" person can help me.

-Charlie221: So, what about you?

-Improbable: What about me?

-Charlie221: Have you had any experiences?

-Charlie221: I mean, I didn't see your username on any of the posts.

-Improbable: Yes, I've had experiences.

-Charlie221: Like what…?

-Improbable: It's…a long story.

-Charlie221: Well, that's not very fair.

-Improbable: Sorry. They're a bit…personal. That's why I haven't posted them on here.

-Charlie221: There's a reason it's called /Personal/ Experiences.

-Improbable: I mean really personal. Too personal to be posted on here for random people.

-Charlie221: Right. Got it.

-Improbable: I do want to know more about your experiences, though.

-Charlie221: Why? You won't tell me yours.

-Improbable: I'm just as curious as you are. I came here looking for answers. Didn't you?

I sit there, chewing on my lip again. There's something about this person, something strange. I can't stop talking with them. It's intriguing.

-Improbable: Here. I'll make you a deal. An exchange of stories?

-Charlie221: Sure. You tell me yours and I tell you more about mine?

-Improbable: Yes. Good?

-Charlie221: Sounds good. I'm going offline soon, though.

-Improbable: I see on your profile that you're in the Seattle area. Is that right?

I blink. They're wanting to know where I live…?

-Charlie221: Why?

I can't come up with a better answer.

-Improbable: I'm in that area, too.

-Improbable: We should meet. Have coffee or something.

I do a double take at the computer screen. Meet? This person wants to meet me? What? The clock in the corner of the screen ticks down slowly, now at two minutes. Shit.

-Charlie221: Meet? We just started talking a few minutes ago!

-Improbable: Your point?

Nothing comes to mind that is worth typing back. My mind whirls, trying to make the decision that normally I would never hesitate about. A stranger I met on the internet wants to meet me in person? Hell no!

-Improbable: You can choose the time and place.

Come on, Jamie. Get your act together. Say no. Of course you'll say no. Just log off the computer and leave this person behind, forget about them.

-Improbable: I think you're different than the other users on here. Your story makes sense. We could benefit from working together on figuring this whole thing out.

-Improbable: You don't want to be alone on this, right?

One minute on the computer remains. I taste the sharp tang of blood as I accidentally chew on my lip too hard, making it bleed. My heart pounds as my fingers frantically type out an answer with twenty seconds remaining.

-Charlie221: Starbucks next to the Pacific Science Center. Tuesday. Three o'clock.


	17. Reunion

**A/N: School is almost over and summer is on its way! I look forward to having a lot more time to write! :) In response to the reviewer by the name of Mascara, feel free to build on your idea. I was also inspired by other stories. :D If you review again, make an account on here so I can reply directly! :) I hope you enjoy the next chapter! I know it's short, but I owe you guys an update!**

**Stay slender,**

**Erinn**

**X**

The moment I enter the crowded coffee shop, I know I shouldn't be there.

My mind races, scolding me for even thinking of going through with this. However, compared to everything else that has happened, this is the most rational thing I have done since I clicked on the little video thumbnail labeled "Entry #1". I can't back out now. I won't.

I glance around the shop. Hipsters in the corner snap shots of their Sharpie'd coffee cups; Aspiring authors type away on their laptops; A business man late for work yells at the cashier for getting his latte wrong. No one out of the ordinary. I can't find anyone who resembles the mental description I came up with for Improbable: male, nerdy-looking, shifty eyes and a not-enough-sleep face. I'm about to give up and retreat when a familiar voice brings color to my face.

"Jamie Warren."

I turn, knowing that silky tone anywhere. "J-Jace," I stammer, girlishly fixing my messy ponytail.

Jace Tanner. Gorgeous brunette hair in wavy locks. Tall and lean. And those _cheekbones_. The guy I've been secretly fawning over since fourth grade. Memories of the faux love note from him flood back, and I see Missy's gruesome tumble down the stairs, and then I see… Him. I blink a few times to clear my thoughts. Focus, Jamie.

Jace must have seen a change in my expression, because his brow furrows in concern.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asks, and I fumble to form a proper sentence.

"I'm…fine. I'm fine, totally, uh. Just waiting for a, uh, friend. Yeah." I mentally punch myself in the face. Repeatedly.

Jace's lips twitch up in a small smile. "Oh…well, how about you sit with me while you wait, then?" He motions to an empty table in the corner by the restrooms.

"Uhh…" A romantic fantasy of Jace and I sharing coffee plays through in my mind, disarming my ability to form words.

Jace's smile, now an amused smirk, widens. "Is that a yes?"

I blink and manage a girly grin. "Uh, yeah, sure."

He leads me over to the table and I sit, Jace sitting across from me.

"So…" I say after a moment, a horrible attempt to start a conversation.

"So," he replies, sipping at a coffee he must have ordered before I arrived.

A moment of silence passes awkwardly, until he speaks again.

"Charlie221."

I blink. "…what?"

"Charlie221," Jace repeats, his glorious face suddenly serious. "Your cat's name is Charlie, right? I guess that makes sense."

I stare at him. "How did you…"

He holds out his hand. "Improbable. My username makes sense, too. Doesn't it?"


	18. Agreement

**A/N: A wild update appeared! :D Hope you enjoy! :)**

**X**

"So…"

"So?"

"You're…"

Jace raises his eyebrows. "Yes?"

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. "You're 'Improbable'?"

"Yes."

I rest my elbows on the table, pressing my palms to my eyes. My head suddenly hurts, my stomach queasy. Jace knows about all of this. About Him. And now, since I posted on that forum, he knows about me. Way to reel 'em in, Jamie.

"Surprising, right?" Jace breaks the silence, tapping his fingertips on the table. "I don't really look like someone who's into the whole Slenderman thing."

I nod in agreement, and then pause. "Do…I look like that?" I ask, suddenly aware of my two-day-old makeup and sleepy eyes.

Jace glances up, his gaze meeting mine. For a moment my headache ceases as he stares, surveying my face. My paranoia increases when he doesn't reply. He must be formulating a careful response in an attempt to avoid offending me. Oh, God. I look like a paranoid schizo. Shit.

"No," he decides, flashing me a small grin. "You don't look like that."

His tone sounds sincere, so I buy it. But somewhere inside I don't feel quite right, like some little voice is telling me it's all just a glorified lie. Like I said; Paranoid schizo.

Jace's grin fades, his face serious again. "In your post on the forum," he begins, "you said you woke up with a mark on your arm?"

I instinctively glance at my right arm, which rests on the table. Nodding, I move my sleeve up just enough to reveal the scar-like mark on the underside of my arm. Jace leans in closer, gripping my wrist gently to get a better look. His face is grim.

"How long has this been here? When did you get it?"

I wrack my mind, trying to remember the flurry of events in the correct order. "Uh…I've had it for a couple weeks, at least. I got it after He showed up at my house. I thought it was all a dream, at first, but then I woke up and saw it, and…" I trail off, remembering that strange night in my garage.

The mark tingled like pins and needles, and I pulled my arm away from Jace's grip. "It hasn't really done anything weird," I assure him. "It's not like a Dark Mark or anything," I add with an attempt at a cheesy Harry Potter reference.

"Not yet," he replied quickly, his eyes contemplative. "Are you sure there hasn't been any connection to the mark and Slender showing up? Anything at all? A tingling or something, maybe a burning?"

I pull my sleeve down, concealing the mark again. "I'm sure. Now you're really starting to make it sound like Harry Potter."

"Jamie, this isn't a joke. Whatever that is, it isn't good. You should find a way to get rid of it."

"Get rid of it?" I stare, confused. "It's like a scar. I can't just wash it off."

"Have you tried?" Jace looked at me quizzically, and I rolled my eyes.

"No, but—"

"Then how do you know it won't work?"

I would have thought he was joking, but his face was serious. "God, Jace, it isn't that bad. Seriously, don't worry about it. A little mark is at the bottom of my priority list right now."

He opened his mouth as if to snap a retort, but then stopped himself, taking a moment to think. "Alright. Sorry. You're right. I just want you to know that this situation is serious. Really serious. You can't joke around about this. Don't do anymore investigating either. Drop the whole tape thing you mentioned. Someone's just trying to screw with you and distract you from the matter at hand. What matters most is finding out why He's following you and figuring out a way to stop him. The sooner that _thing_ is destroyed—"

"Woah, woah, woah," I interrupt, holding my hand up. For a moment, he almost looks angry, but the expression is gone as soon as I notice it. "I don't want to destroy Him, or even get rid of Him. All I want to do is find out more about Him, to understand Him. He's different than people think. I know it."

Jace's face is dark, his tone cold. "Different? How do you know that, Jamie? From everything I've read, I've learned that he's a ruthless, emotionless monster that murders for kicks. How could you possibly know that those people aren't telling the truth?"

Something inside me fires up, and I can feel my face flushing. My fists clench and I sit up in my chair, leaning forward. The mark on my arm burns. "I just know," I say, surprised at the sheer confidence and brutality in my voice. I had no idea I could even speak like that.

Jace stares. "You just know," he repeats, sitting back in his chair. His eyes flick over my tense stance, noticing my defensive and passionate reaction. "Fine. I guess we'll have to agree to disagree."

I nod once, letting myself relax.

"But," Jace continues, "the only way we can make the best of this situation is if we work together. Being alone when dealing with something this unpredictable is dangerous."

"We don't have to destroy it," I remind him, wanting to make sure my point gets across. I don't care how cute he is, this is something I'm not willing to compromise on.

"Right, I got that. I think we should focus on finding a way to…control him," he paused to find the appropriate word. "And I think you might be just what we need." Taking note of my confused expression, he went on. "What I mean is that you've had some interesting and unique experiences, according to your forum post. It doesn't seem like he wants to hurt you; rather, I think he's sort of protecting you, from what I read. Whatever the reason may be, we could utilize that. We could make sure he doesn't hurt anyone else."

I nod slightly as he speaks, assessing his approach. It doesn't seem that bad, and it makes sense. "Okay… I get where you're coming from. Got it."

He continues. "What you need to do is try to form a better connection with him. Figure out what his angle is. Get him on your side."

"You want me to try to…contact him?"

Jace nods. "Do whatever you normally do when he shows up. Then write down the results in a notebook or something and give it to me. You're in control of the situation, and he won't get hurt. Agreed?"

I close my eyes, pondering for a moment. This is what I've wanted this whole time, right? To find answers to my questions? Now I have a means of doing so. I've already gone past the point of no return. I open my eyes.

"Agreed."


End file.
